Claude Lorrain – Pastoral scene with classical ruins. Grenoble – Musée des Beaux Arts (about-France.com Baroque and Classicism)
Croyez-moi, hâtons-nous, ma Sylvie, Believe me, let us hasten, my Sylvia,
Usons bien des moments précieux; and profit well by the precious time ;
Contentons ici notre envie, let us here satisfy our desires.
De nos ans le feu nous y convie: The passions of our age invite us ;
Nous ne saurions, vous et moi, faire mieux you and I could not do better.
Quand l’hiver a glacé nos guérets, Winter has covered our fields with ice,
Le printemps vient reprendre sa place, Spring comes to take her place again,
Et ramène à nos champs leurs attraits; and to our pastures gives their charms.
Mais, hélas! quand l’âge nous glace, But when, alas ! old age has chilled our feelings,
Nos beaux jours ne reviennent jamais. our happy days return no more.
Ne cherchons tous les jours qu’à nous plaire, Let us seek all day naught but what pleases us;
Soyons-y l’un et l’autre empressés; let us both be earnest about it ;
Du plaisir faisons notre affaire, let pleasures be our business ;
Des chagrins songeons à nous défaire: let us get rid of all our troubles;
Il vient un temps où l’on en prend assez. a time will come when we shall have enough of them.
Quand l’hiver a glacé nos guérets, …
La Pastorale comique, Sc xiii, p. 7.
The Comic Pastoral, Sc 15, p. 51. (transl. Henri van Laun)
A Pastoral Landscape by Claude Lorrain, 1647 (WikiArt.org)
As you know, I hope to publish a book about Molière. I have not read all of Molière for decades. My PhD thesis was a discussion of six plays. The University of British Columbia’s Library has sent me a PDF copy, which I will convert into text I can edit.
Although I will seldom include the libretto in my little book, I am reading the plays of Molière in their entirety. The carpe diem located above is an “air.”
I apologize for posting rather long articles.
Love to everyone 💕
Benedetto Ferrari : « Non fia più ver » Philippe Jarrousky (contre-ténor)
Pastoral Landscape by Claude Lorrain, 1677 (WikiArt.org)
© Micheline Walker
16 May 2019
WordPress
Micheline's Blog 
I don’t know about the rest of your readers, but I thoroughly enjoy your rather long articles. Please keep writing them, dear friend!
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Thank you my dear. The bilingual quotations and the images lengthen the posts, but Molière wrote in what is referred to as “la langue de Molière:” plain ordinary French. Henri van Laun translated Molière from beginning to end and his translations are accurate. Could it be that I am addicted to 50-minute classes? Maybe not, but Molière is my man and Classicism, my better-know area of French literature: from Montaigne to Diderot, including Rabelais. I had chosen to write on Baudelaire, and studied the nineteenth century. But I wrote a paper on Molière and changed the topic of my dissertation. I have taught several courses on nineteenth-century French literature which has kept me happy. I thank you for writing. People prefer short posts, and they are at liberty to focus on the images. Molière attracted artists. Have a good day. Love, Micheline
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Unfortunately, I don’t know French, so I am unable to appreciate the original, but I trust your judgement regarding the accuracy of translation.
I would’ve loved to to read your analysis of Baudelaire; the Russian translation by the brilliant Marina Tsvetaeva was one of the most read “forbidden books” during the communist regime, as he was deemed to be the inspiration for symbolists and acmeists.
Enjoy your day, dear Micheline.
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After publishing “Les Fleurs du mal,” Baudelaire was prosecuted and found guilty. He had to pay a fine and delete a few poems. But his poetry is perfection whatever the subject matter. He was praised by Victor Hugo, a great poet and turned poetry around. He saught happiness and never found it. “Paradis artificiels,” he drank “absinthe” and used opium and laudanum. His life, a quest for happiness, is discretly chronicled in “Les Fleurs du mal,” but whatever his lifestyle, there is nothing pornographic in Baudelaire. Emotionally, he was very vulnerable and may have chronically depressed. He speaks of his “spleen,” a form of boredom. But he was a great poet, a “frisson nouveau” (a new shudder). I believe poverty harmed him. It’s a great evil. I also admire Flaubert. Perfection again. The nineteenth century was a flawed new world. So, here I am, miles away from Molière, but Molière was the better topic.
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I do appreciate your detour away from Moliere, dear Micheline, as your every word about Baudelaire resonates in me. I am aware of his biography, and it is from his tragic life that the Russian boheme coined the saying “to be a poet, you must be hungry.”
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He was well educated. The best school: Louis-le-Grand. Molière’s school renamed. Both studied law. A drug culture is dangerous and Baudelaire also caught sexually transmitted diseases. He died at the age of 46. He is a tragic figure.
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Agree with you on all points: indulging in drugs is very dangerous, and Baudelaire is a tragic figure. Perhaps that was his attraction to the Russian cocaine-infused symbolist poetry and decadent art.
Have a wonderful weekend, dear Micheline.
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I thank you for your patience. Somehow, I could not write my post, but matters changed very quickly. Baudelaire left exquisite poetry, but he ruined his health. He belongs to a group of poets known as « poètes maudits », cursed poets. The sun is trying to shine, but spring is slow in coming. Love to you, my dear. 🙂
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Yes, that is what we called that group of poets in Russian as well. I feel apologetic because I inadvertently detoured our communication to Baudelaire, while your interest is Moliere. No more tangents, I hope! Have a wonderful day, dear Micheline.
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It was called « fin de siècle » and décadence. No you did not take me away from Molière. It may be the contrary. The human mind is very complex. Diversion can help. I had difficulty writing my post, but after reading your first comment, nothing seemed simpler than writing on Molière. So I wrote the post from beginning to end and returned to Baudelaire. Take care, my dear. Micheline
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You too, dear friend.
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Friendship is such a gift. I thank you for all your kind words. Love
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And I thank you, dear Micheline, for granting me the privilege of benefiting from your vast knowledge and elegant style.
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We should thank WordPress for bringing together soulmates who would otherwise not meet. We write on many subjects learning various things, getting recipes, or caressing a nice cat across the pond. So, we met. It may be a few days before we read a comment, but it’s waiting and we look forward to reading it. It’s a victory for the human heart. It’s communication. Love, my dear.
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Very true. It’s the positive side of social media. Have a great day, dear Micheline.
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There’s no border. Have a wonderful day. Micheline
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Wishing you the best. ❤
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No apology required. We can choose how much we read 🙂
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They are rather long but if they were not bilingual, they would be shorter. So you’re quite right The quotations are in French and English, so one can choose to read in English or in French. But Molière wrote in French, just as Shakespeare wrote in English. I read Shakespeare in English.
So there is a bit of a menu to these posts. I skipped the serenade at the beginning of the Sicilian. These posts can be very useful to students (temporary or permanent). I have to re-read all the plays, and make sure I am not leaving aside the history of comedy and its theories. Internet does not have English-language entries for all the plays of Molière. Until it does, my posts can be used. I thank you sincerely for the encouragement. 🙂
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“The golden age, ah, whither is it flown,
For which in secret every heart repines?
When o’er the yet unsubjugated earth
Men roam’d, like herds, in joyous liberty;
When on the flowery lawn an ancient tree
Lent to the shepherd and the shepherdess
Its grateful shadow, and the leafy grove
Its tender branches lovingly entwin’d
Around confiding love; when still and clear,
O’er sands forever pure, the pearly stream
The nymph’s fair form encircled; when the snake
Glided innoxious through the verdant grass,
And the bold youth pursu’d the daring faun;
When every bird winging the limpid air,
And every living thing o’er hill and dale
Proclaim’d to man,—What pleases is allow’d…”
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